'First sit down. Take that chair there near the window; it commands a good view.'
'Monsieur does not need this?'
It was Ravaillac's voice that broke in upon us, and he himself stood before me, holding out on a salver the ribbons of the torn bow. Civil as the question was, there was something in his tone that made me look at him sharply. It seemed to me, as I looked up, that a faint smile vanished between his bloodless lips like a spider slipping back into a crevice.
I could, however, see no trace of impertinence in the long sallow face, and the whole attitude of my new follower was one of submissive respect. I fancied, therefore, that I had made a mistake, and put it down to the state of mental agitation I was in at the time.
'No,' I answered him; 'you can fling it away. And in future you need not ask me about such trifles.'
'Very well, monsieur, I will remember,' and with a bow he moved towards the door, the salver in his hand.
'Ravaillac,' I called out after him.
'Monsieur.'
'On second thoughts do not throw that away. I did not—I mean, please leave it there on the table.'
'Monsieur,' and, laying down the salver, he stepped out of the room.